


Just Nerves

by likeasouffle



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale changes genitals, Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Consensual Non-Monogamy, Crowley changes gender presentation/pronouns/genitals (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Humiliation, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Porn With Plot, Sex Toys, Tentacle Sex, sex-positive asexual Crowley (Good Omens), sometimes Crowley is a snake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasouffle/pseuds/likeasouffle
Summary: Aziraphale’s first attempt at masturbation was so humiliating that he didn’t try it again for 2000 years. But once he got started with sex, he gradually ramped up his experimentation with various humans, as well as a particular demon. As he became closer to Crowley, he learned that demons are forbidden to love, so Aziraphale became determined to limit their relationship to friendship and sex, and nothing else. No matter how difficult Crowley might make it.Just Nerves: A Series of Snapshots from the Sexual and Romantic History of the Principality Aziraphale
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/humans
Comments: 67
Kudos: 249





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be aware that in this story, 1) Aziraphale and Crowley are not monogamous, not even after they’re officially a couple, and there’s no jealousy about that, 2) there is mild dubious consent in one scene, by which I mean there is not an explicitly stated ‘yes,’ but it’s not traumatic for the character, and 3) in the last chapter there is sex that involves shape-shifting, specifically tentacles. See the tags for other content notes, but I think those are the main three. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [multicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/multicorn/) for being an invaluable sounding board during the writing process, and for the extremely thorough beta reading. This story would probably never have gotten done if it weren’t for you, and if it did it wouldn’t be half as good. Thank you!

**The Garden of Eden, 4004 BC**

It was the very first week of the existence of the Earth, and Aziraphale was contemplating genitals. 

The trouble was that he hadn't actually chosen his own. Not explicitly. He hadn't ticked a box on any form. He hadn't said to anyone: “Yes, I would like a set of functional genitals please, and I would like them to be the sort that stick out the front when excited and make an obvious bump in one’s robe.” What he _had_ done, upon receiving his body, was have a thought. 

The thought had been that he should quite like to be average, unassuming, of an age and a size and shape that humans find comfortable to talk to and non-threatening.

He was sure there could have been a wide variety of possible looks that would have fit that description—he could have wound up with different hair, or a different skin colour, or with wider hips and a pair of breasts—but having materialized in the Garden looking the way he did, he had found that he was, for the most part, satisfied with the end result. 

He recognized that he had quite a different shape from both Adam and Eve—he was soft where they were not—but he enjoyed his softness. In his first few moments on Earth, in his new body, he stroked his belly and delighted in the pleasant give of the flesh, and the smoothness of the skin under his hands.

And the hands themselves! What marvelously dextrous and expressive tools, able to gesture and touch and grab and wiggle. They were rather—well, rather _fun_ to move about. And so sensitive on the tips of the fingers, able to differentiate a remarkable variety of shapes, textures, temperatures. Not only could he wield his flaming sword, but he could reach up and pluck a grape from a vine for eating—a wonderful experiment in itself.

There were no mirrors in those days, but there was a still pool, and it reflected his face when he looked down into it. The gentleness he saw there made him smile, and the sight of that delighted smile filled him with such warmth, such an intense feeling of well-being, that he knew this face was one he’d be happy to live with for a long, long time.

But what of the genitals?

He and Adam and Eve had all seen each other naked, on that first day before clothing existed. He was aware that Adam and Eve had different types of genitals from each other, that one had an outie bit and one had an inny bit. And he was aware that the two types were essentially the same in a few particular ways, when it came down to it; each had an area with an especially dense concentration of sensitive nerve endings, for example. (Part of being an angel means having the ability not only to shrink down to a small enough size to stand on the head of a pin, but also to be aware of where all the electrons are so one doesn't fall off, and by extension, to scan an area and know the general makeup of all the objects and beings around.) 

In any case, Aziraphale wondered if it might be interesting to have the same type of genitals as Eve, but he strongly suspected that now that his body had materialized, he was more or less stuck with it. He had received a strong warning upon signing it out not to mess with it or damage it, and he wasn't entirely certain what types of activities might constitute messing with it. So he vowed to keep its form static for as long as possible.

He broke that vow six months later, almost immediately after having his first real conversation with a demon. But we'll get to that.

* * *

On his third day after arriving in the Garden of Eden, Aziraphale was sitting on the grass under a vividly green fig tree, to some extent enjoying the sunshine and the fragrance of pollen on the breeze, but mostly enjoying playing with himself.

He was supposed to be keeping an eye on the humans, protecting them from harm, guiding them toward goodness, that type of thing. But they were busy inventing sex at the moment, and he'd thought he'd better give them some privacy. The knowledge of what they were doing, though, had given him the most wonderful idea.

So that's how he had ended up in his current position. His wings were spread wide behind him, to allow for sitting, the centre of his back against the tree trunk. He had pulled his robe up around his waist. He had one hand against his mouth, distractly tugging at his lower lip, and the other hand wrapped around his penis, unhurriedly stroking it and squeezing at the tip. He inhaled deeply, overcome with the bone-deep enjoyment of experiencing a new type of pleasure for the first time. 

He had the sense that he was rushing toward something, that there was some edge he was about to tip over. He started to speed up his movements, feeling distinctly like that was what he needed but not knowing why. It was sensual, ecstatic, maddening. His breath rushed through him, even as he didn't need to breathe, and his muscles tensed from his abdomen to his toes. 

He felt a shift in the air, and all at once someone was standing before him, someone tall, fit, and intimidating. It was the archangel Gabriel. Aziraphale gasped. 

“What in Heaven's name are you _doing_?”

“Oh my. Oh dear.” Aziraphale quickly covered himself with his robe and clasped his hands together. “I was, er, I was learning about how my new body works. Getting the lay of the land, as it were.” He huffed out a humourless laugh.

Gabriel made a face. His robe looked somehow much newer and better than Aziraphale's, which was strange because the concept of robes had only existed for three days.

Aziraphale's cheeks were much hotter than usual. “Was there something you needed?”

Gabriel frowned deeply. "We've received a report that Hell is threatening to send a demon to the Garden to influence the humans. They obviously can't get in; there are walls all the way around. But it never hurts to be on the safe side, so keep an eye out for that."

"Of course. I'll be on my guard."

Gabriel stood over Aziraphale and glanced down his body with an undisguised sneer. "Be sure that you do. Stay alert, Aziraphale. Humanity is in your care." 

Gabrial ascended in a beam of light and was gone.

Aziraphale sighed, still deeply aware of his erection. He sat there panting for a long, long time. He waited until the pressure inside his penis had eased a bit and he started to feel, well, still anxious and profoundly unsatisfied, if he was being honest, but at least he wasn’t experiencing so much immediate need for sexual release.

He got up and set out to check the perimeter.

* * *

Over the next several months, Aziraphale noticed an enormous snake in the garden from time to time, but it didn't worry him. She didn't seem interested in attacking the humans, though she did watch them occasionally. She seemed more interested in the humans than Aziraphale would have expected from a snake, but then again, what did he know about snakes? 

It wasn't until after Eve ate the forbidden apple of knowledge that Aziraphale realized his mistake. He had warned her not to, and trusted her to obey, and after a while he had stopped watching quite so closely. He had simply had too many things to focus on: the tree, the humans, the gate, the outer wall, and in fact the entire sky, which could be a possible entry point for sinister demons if they decided to fly in. So he had no idea how the snake-shaped demon had managed to enter the garden, but he wasn't at all surprised he had missed it.

What did surprise him was that afterward, when he was standing on the wall contemplating his failure, the snake joined him, transformed into a human form with wings, and struck up a conversation. It was as if they were friendly acquaintances working in different cubicles on the same floor, just passing in the hall between the boardroom and the kitchen.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon.”

Here it should be noted that that isn’t actually what the demon said. After all, balloons hadn't been invented yet, nor had the English language, and no one had yet contemplated whether a balloon could be made out of lead, or what direction it would go if it was. 

But in the language in which she was speaking, if we translate not the literal meanings of the words, but the tone and the intent behind them, into something that will be understandable to the reader in the same way that Aziraphale understood it at the time, what we come up with is: “Well that went down like a lead balloon.”

Over the course of this first conversation, Aziraphale learned that the demon's name was Crawly, and that she was just as anxious about recent events as Aziraphale was. Nothing he had learned in Heaven had prepared him for the idea that a demon could be either relatable or friendly, but both turned out to be true, and soon he found himself feeling a little better about things, reassured about his inherent goodness, a little warm in the general area of his chest, and very intrigued. He covered his new acquaintance with his wing as a shield from the rain.

The rain went on for quite a long time, and they stood there watching tiny plants begin to spring up from the sand in various places across the landscape. It was beautiful and new, but quite wet and cold, so Aziraphale was relieved when the sun finally came out again. He shook off his wings, and ran his fingers ineffectually through his hair. Crawly waved a hand and miracled them both dry in an instant. 

"Oh, thank you."

Crawly nodded kindly. 

"Um, excuse me," Aziraphale asked, rubbing his hands together and avoiding eye contact. "I couldn't help but notice that you were a snake before, and then you transformed yourself. Could I ask, do you do that sort of thing often? It's just I don't get the impression my people would like me experimenting excessively with this body they've loaned me, and I was wondering if yours would be the same."

She shrugged. "Eh, I don't think they care. Whatever gets the job done, you know. There aren't supposed to be other humans around yet, so I thought those two wouldn't trust me if I looked like one, so. Had to be an animal."

"Of course. That makes sense." Aziraphale worried his lip between his teeth. "Um. Is it very difficult?"

"Nah. No more difficult than manipulating any other physical object, just slightly more risky if you get it wrong. You've tried some things, I assume? Little miracles of some sort?"

"A little, yes. I can create light. Very useful after the sun's gone down. I disappeared a stone once, not sure where it's got to. I'll know it when I see it. Also, this was the trickiest one, I created my own robe, and I'm rather pleased with it actually."

Crawly turned and looked him up and down, nodding thoughtfully. "Very nice." She paused, then said: "Here, why don't you try something. It doesn't involve actually transforming or disappearing anything, so it should be easy."

At this point Aziraphale wondered if it might perhaps be a bad idea to follow instructions on anything from a presumably evil demon, but he couldn't help but be curious about where this was going. "Alright..."

"You can keep your wings but make them invisible, if you tuck them into another plane just outside reality. Er. Outside the physical realm. Whatever you want to call it. Here, look." She did exactly that. There was a shift, like light bending through a turning prism, and then there was just a human, with long red hair and wearing a long black robe. No wings in sight.

"Oh, that's very clever. Well done!" Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated. He could feel several other planes of existence within reach of his senses, and then it was just a matter of sliding into one of them... But when he opened his eyes, Crawly was gone, and so was everything else. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He quickly reversed the process and found her laughing softly. "Er. I seem to have done it to all of myself by mistake."

"Overdid it a little, eh?"

"Sorry. You'd think someone who'd gone from being a ball of wings and eyes to being a winged human would have a better grasp of how to manipulate one's form."

"Just keep practicing, you'll get it. I bet you'll be better than me before you know it." 

"Thank you, that's very heartening." Aziraphale shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Could I ask you something?"

"By all means, angel."

"Oh, it's Aziraphale, by the way. My name."

"Aziraphale." Crawly nodded.

"Er, I've noticed the humans have started categorizing all the animals they see not only into distinct types, but also into two overall subgroups. They perceive some animals as being more similar to Adam, and some as more similar to Eve. They take this into account as they name them all: lion and lioness, ram and ewe, bull and cow, and so on."

"Yeah, I've noticed that too." Crawly actually knew quite a lot about the humans, having had no real work to do outside of temptation, and had spent significantly more time than Aziraphale observing them.

"The thing I'm confused about," Aziraphale said, "is that they seem to see me as being more similar to Adam than to Eve, and I'm not sure why that is."

"No?"

"No. I've thought about it, and I'm quite different from both of them. But just looking at similarities, my thighs and the roundness of my face are more like Eve, and Eve's belly has become larger over time, like mine. But I don't have breasts, and my genitals are more like Adam's..."

"Aziraphale. It's all about the genitals." 

"Is it really?"

"Well, mostly. They don't have a big enough sample size yet to know how it all relates to beards and hips and things. They've figured out how sex works, and they’ve got the idea that the two of them need to be involved in making babies. They're thinking of the two types, more or less, as the sperm type and the ovum type. Although they don't quite have the specifics. But that's the general idea."

"Yes, but I don't produce either sperm or ova."

"Irrelevant. You've got the same bits as Adam, so you're a sperm type. So, a 'man,' from their perspective. They don't know yet that there can be more variety than just men and women, but I expect their descendants'll get it sorted in no time."

Aziraphale thought for a moment, looking out over the landscape. "If it's alright to ask, which type are you?"

"Well, the complicating factor is that I don't actually want to be categorized based on my body. I'm sure you can reach out with your senses and just sort of know what I've got going on under my clothes, but that won't tell you what to call me. Especially since I expect it'll change from time to time."

"Sorry, your body will change? Or your, er, categorization?"

"Both. And not necessarily simultaneously. For the time being you can think of me as a woman, and call me 'she'."

"Alright. And, if I see you again, how will I know which you are?"

Crawly pursed her lips, then came to a decision. "You'll probably just have to ask." 

Aziraphale nodded. "You don't have to ask me, just for the record. If it's about what words to use for me. I think I'm fine any which way."

"Noted." Crawly turned to face Aziraphale, and her yellow eyes shone in the sun. "Well, I should probably get back. I've got to send a report about all of the recent developments up here."

"Yes, of course, lovely chatting with you. Oh, and in case I don't see you again, I wanted to tell you to be sure to come back to the Garden and try the grapes some time. They're positively delightful."

"Try? You mean eat?"

"Yes, haven't you eaten? It's wonderful!"

Crawly furrowed her brow in confusion, but smiled all the same. "I'll keep that in mind." She reappeared her wings, spread them wide, and prepared to step off the wall. "So long for now."

* * *

Aziraphale accompanied Adam and Eve on their travels, helped them find water and build a shelter, and generally made sure they didn't die. In his spare time, he tasted new foods, studied the plants and animals, and practiced doing miracles of various sorts. Reality hadn’t existed for very long, after all, and therefore neither had reality-bending miracles. He got the hang of disappearing and reappearing his wings into another plane, and then started working on actually manipulating his physical form. Just his feathers at first, in case anything went wrong. 

After he'd managed to remove some feathers entirely and then recreate them from scratch, good as new, he gained quite a bit of confidence. He figured out how to completely change the structure of his body so that he didn't have any wings at all. He made his back smooth, with the same sort of shoulder blades and muscles that a human would have. And he filled in the wingholes in his robe as well.

He had pretty much decided at this point that sexual desire was probably best avoided, what with not having anyone to have sex with and the embarrassment he had experienced under Gabriel's scrutiny, so he also practiced locating the hormones associated with those desires, and miracling the chemicals right out of his body.

One day, while he was reinforcing the shelter with extra stones at the base of it, he was startled by Gabriel materializing disconcertingly behind him with a whoosh of air. Aziraphale turned to face him. "Gabriel! Hello."

"Aziraphale. How goes the battle?"

"What battle?"

"How are things. On Earth."

"Ah. Pretty well, all told. Adam and Eve are still alive and have invented cooking, which has really improved their digestion, I must say, not to mention the flavours of the food. I'm looking into other methods of controlling the bacteria population, particularly in water, and might have some leads involving fermented plants—"

"Yes, yes, fine. What happened to your wings?"

"Er, well, I thought it might be more comfortable for the humans if I looked more like them. I'm blending in, you see. And my wings are, well, I've gotten rid of them."

Gabriel grimaced.

"But rest assured I can bring them back at a moment's notice. Just a small miracle. It's not permanent damage. Or anything. I can show you—"

Gabriel continued to frown. "That won't be necessary. Just remain vigilant. It's come to our attention that a demon managed to gain access to the humans and influence them in the Garden. Any idea how that happened?"

"Er, yes, actually. She didn't look like a demon, you see. She was in the form of a snake, and I thought she was just another of the Almighty's creatures. And there was so much territory to watch over. I wonder if it might be better to have more angels stationed here, spread out the workload a bit—"

"Not at all. I have the utmost confidence that you can handle it. Keep your chin up, Aziraphale, and don't get distracted."

"Yes, thank you. I won't."

And he didn't, for a good two thousand years. Until he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ur, 2004 BC**

Aziraphale was visiting a warzone in Ur. On this particular night, he was sitting in a tavern that was a bit far from the thick of things and was still quite active despite the fighting. He was enjoying a drink, and contemplating ordering a meal, when Crawly approached. She took a seat beside Aziraphale without preamble, and folded her hands together on the table, looking at him expectantly.

"Crawly?" Aziraphale was surprised, but not, although he sounded it, annoyed. "What are you doing here? Is this invasion all your doing?"

"What invasion? I'm just here to tempt an angel to abandon his virtuous ways." She grinned cheekily.

"Really? Which one?"

Crawly shook her head. "I'm joking. What are you up to?"

"The same thing I do whenever there's a war on. Just trying to help out the people, provide a little hopefulness and charitable feeling. And medical aid."

"But what are you doing _here_. At the bar."

"Ah. Taking a short break. Even _my_ energy is not inexhaustible. And I had heard they have a particularly lovely drink made with grape syrup and dates. It's rather nice. Join me?"

"Tell you what, let's go to the back room and see what trouble we can get up to. Everyone there has just miraculously remembered they had somewhere to be."

"Crawly..." Aziraphale tried to glare disapprovingly, but only ended up looking amused.

So they ordered a drink for Crawly, went to the back, and made themselves comfortable on a couple of padded couches in the corner. Crawly put her cup down on the table, while Aziraphale kept hold of his. They both kept an eye on the door, just in case.

Crawly asked: "So tell me, does your side have any investment in the outcome of this whole thing?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. I wasn't given any instructions along those lines. Yours?"

"Nah. 'S just humans, being human. If I stick around long enough I can claim some of the worst of it as my doing."

"Crawly! But that would be dishonest!"

"So you'd prefer I work hard at tempting people to _even more_ sin? More than what's already going on?"

"Well." Aziraphale frowned. "I suppose not..."

"There you go. It's the best thing for both of us."

Aziraphale sipped thoughtfully, then said: "Since you're not here to do _your_ work, how would you feel about helping me with some of mine? It would be such a relief, having another supernatural entity taking on some of the burden."

Crawly sputtered. "You're asking me to do_ blessings?!"_

"Well. It wouldn't have to be blessings. You could just... miracle some wounds closed perhaps. Or will some arrows to miss their targets. Little things."

"Why would I do that if you're not going to do anything for me?"

"For you?"

"Yeah. How about it, want to motivate the invading army to build their siege engines faster? Degrade the structural integrity of the houses?"

"I couldn't possibly! The very idea!"

"You can't get something for nothing, angel. If you want a good cuddle, you've got to provide a few orgasms. Tit for tat."

"I don't think that's actually—Wait, are you saying you'd rather cuddles than orgasms?"

"I'm _saying,_ I'm not helping you with your little charity mission, and that's that."

"Fine." Aziraphale huffed. He sighed deeply, then drank more of his drink. He followed the movement of Crawly's tongue as she licked her lips. He softened. "Er, you once said that I should ask if I wasn't sure: are you still a woman?"

Crawly looked over, frowned, seeming to consider something, then shrugged. "Yeah, that's right. Well, not 'still'. _'Again,'_ more like. I've gone back and forth a bit."

"And," Aziraphale hesitated before asking: "Do the humans have an easy time knowing which you are?"

"Some of them, because of the clothes." She gestured, indicating her long robe, with its full sleeves, and the fabric draped over her hair. "Others not so much, because of my face, and my voice, and the lack of breasts." She kept her gaze on Aziraphale for a moment longer. "And other reasons, depending on circumstances." She raised one eyebrow lasciviously, slouched back, kicked off her sandal and put her foot up on Aziraphale's couch. With her knee high up, she allowed her robe to fall down her thigh toward her waist, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Aziraphale blushed fiercely and swiveled, wide-eyed, to look at the door and back again. He whisper-shouted: _"Crawly._ Put your knees down. You're _exposing_ yourself!"

"Oh, am I?" She smiled. "I hadn't realized." She lowered her knee by straightening her leg, but left it on Aziraphale's couch, which resulted in her foot sliding against Aziraphale's thigh.

Aziraphale swallowed hard. "Crawly." He looked at the door again. "What if-?"

"You want me to stop?" She moved her foot over his thigh and rested her ankle there. She pointed her toes down as far as she could, to brush the tops of them over Aziraphale's crotch through his robe. Not rubbing, just touching.

Aziraphale gasped and closed his eyes. They were both still for a long moment. Aziraphale felt he was being tested, and tried, tried, tried to resist. But the possibility of friction was so tantalizingly close. He bucked his hips.

Crawly grinned, delighted. "This'll be easier if you give me a little room."

"I—" Aziraphale paused. He felt that same warm feeling in his chest that he had felt on the wall in Eden. He spread his knees wide so Crawly's leg could rest on the couch between them. Aziraphale could hear his own loud breath getting quicker and couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It was so much easier in this position for Crawly to rub Aziraphale's cloth-covered penis. It was quickly hardening, and Aziraphale's hand, still gripping his drink, was shaking. "Have you done this before?" Crawly asked.

"That's not any of your—" Some of the drink spilled out of the cup, and Aziraphale jolted upright in his efforts to keep from dropping the whole thing.

Crawly darted a hand out to retrieve the cup. "Careful." She placed it on the table. Her foot hadn't moved from its place between Aziraphale's legs. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath. He allowed himself to slump against the backrest again. He said softly and sincerely: "Thank you." He knit his brow in concentration, as his very sensitive erection twitched against the ball of Crawly's foot. He tipped his head back, and spread his legs further. "Oh..." 

Crawly shifted position so she could reach further with her leg and press harder.

Aziraphale moaned and bucked upward, rubbing himself against Crawly's foot, jerking more desperately and panting harder.

The door opened.

"Oh! I—" Aziraphale stood up hurriedly, shoving Crawly's leg away, and bolted from the couch in a panic. "Gracious, I'm sorry, I was just on my way out—"

Crawly straightened up, but stayed where she sat, stunned. "Are you sure you're—?"

"I'm sorry, I simply must—" Aziraphale was already across the room and pushing past whoever had opened the door. He scrambled through the main section of the bar and out the front door into the night. There were hardly any people on the street, but any at all was too many. He raced around to the back of the building.

Now that he was alone, he frustratedly grabbed his erection through the cloth of his robe. He leaned against the wall, hitched the fabric up around his waist, and held it there with one hand. With the other he stroked himself quickly and urgently, panting, completely undignified. His whole body shook as he orgasmed within a matter of moments. He called out one brief "Ah!" before he caught himself.

He stood there, leaning, quivering, gasping, holding his penis. He jerked a little more as his heart raced. 

He hoped Crawly was alright. He hoped he would one day experience such profound physical pleasure again. 

He miracled his fluids from the ground and his hand, and arranged his robe. He looked around, still shaky and short of breath. It seemed unlikely that anyone saw or heard.

He should have said goodbye more politely. He worried what Crawly thought of him now. He worried that he shouldn't worry what Crawly thought of him. 

He decided not to go back into the bar. 

* * *

**Athens, Greece, 400 BC**

Aziraphale was walking in Athens one hot, dry afternoon when he felt the telltale shift in the air of a supernatural entity arriving via teleportation. He headed toward the source of the shift.

In an alley behind a shop, where he'd been eavesdropping on customers through the wall, Crawly sensed it too. He smiled and looked around for Aziraphale, but instead saw a short demon with black hair on zir head and boils on zir face, surrounded by a swarm of flies. "Lord Beelzebub? I wasn't expecting you."

"Crawly. I'm here to extend an invitation." Beelzebub spoke slowly, sounding simultaneously bored and authoritative. "We're holding a trial for the crimezz of the demon Gremory tomorrow."

"Gremory? What's she done?"

"She no longer hazz Hell'zz interests at heart. It's come to our attention that she'zz been keeping a human companion alive for one hundred sixzzty years. Apparently they don't typically live that long."

"So… The problem is that she’s been keeping a soul away from Hell?"

"That izzn’t all. It seemzz that it's a love relationship. They've been living together. They had a _commitment_ ceremony." Ze looked absolutely appalled. 

Crawly nodded slowly. "And we disapprove of that, do we?"

"Demonzz don't love. Not if they want to get anything done. All of her dayzz are filled with _tenderness_ and _care_. She's been spreading it to humanity wherever she goezz, leaving a trail of compassion and goodwill in her wake. Last week she prevented a fist fight just by standing nearby and inspiring patience in the mindzz of an angry pair of drunks."

Crawly was genuinely startled by that, and showed it on his face. "And she's been doing that _intentionally_?"

"Doezzn't matter. Goodwill is goodwill, it's a crime either way. If it hadn't been for all the good deedzz, she might've only been sentenced to an eternity in the deepest pit. But as it is, well. We'll probably destroy her."

"Destroy?! _Permanently_?"

"We can't have demonzz going about loving people and inspiring virtue and preventing sin. She'zz a traitor to Hell, and traitorzz must stand trial. So you'll be there?"

"Mm, ngh, course, right."

"Tomorrow."

"Wouldn't miss it."

He was still half-heartedly nodding when Beelzebub vanished. 

Aziraphale had missed the beginning of the conversation, but had caught more than enough of the end. He turned and walked away before he was seen.

* * *

Less than a week later, Crawly had tracked Aziraphale down in the city. (He was starting to get the hang of sensing Aziraphale's unique angelic essence and using it to pinpoint his location.) He approached at a park, where Aziraphale was sitting on a low retaining wall around a flower bed.

"Hello, Aziraphale. Enjoying the garden?" Crawly circled the flower bed as he looked around.

Aziraphale nodded. "Crawly." He gestured to the spot beside him in an invitation to join him. "Yes, it's lovely here. Do you have business in Athens?"

Crawly sat. But not too close. "Just a simple temptation. You?"

"I’m relaxing, actually. Did you know, there are some wonderful up and coming philosophers here? I’ve been meeting with them, and encouraging some of their students to record their ideas in writing—"

Crawly interrupted. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."

Aziraphale frowned. "About that. I wanted to apologize. I left so rudely, and so suddenly. I wanted to check you were alright but I was so embarrassed. I can't tell you how sorry I am—"

_"You're_ sorry? All this time I thought you'd be angry!"

"Angry? Why would I be angry?"

"Because I tempted you into something you wouldn’t have done otherwise, in public, and I didn’t wait to make sure you wanted it before I started. I was _sure_ you've been plotting my murder all this time."

"Murder?!"

"I'm exaggerating." Crawly looked at Aziraphale's face, and judged it honest. "So you're not angry?"

"On the contrary, I—" Aziraphale cleared his throat, and looked around. He spoke quietly. "It was enlightening. I never knew—"

"Had no one ever touched you sexually before?"

Aziraphale blushed and looked away.

"Have you done it again in the meantime?"

"Not with another person. Only—" He cleared his throat. "—by myself."

"Do you want to do it again with another person? With me?"

Aziraphale lowered his head, and looked at Crawly though his eyelashes. "It seems to me, if we did it the same way again, it would be a little one-sided, don't you think?"

Crawly's eyebrows shot up. He grinned widely. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, that you want to do something for me, then perhaps we can do a little trade." He gestured between the two of them with both hands.

"Oh?"

"I don't know if you know this, but demons have the ability to sense desire. Including lust."

Aziraphale nodded slowly.

"And it's my understanding that angels can sense love."

"Well, yes..."

"Tell you what. You teach me how to sense love, and I'll give you all the sensual pleasure you desire. Anything you want, the moment you want it. You won't even have to speak—"

"Wait a moment. Love? Why do you want to sense love?" 

"It's not a big deal. I could do it before. I'm just a bit out of practice, since, you know..."

"Since you fell."

"It's honestly not a big deal. It would just be useful. For, you know, more temptation opportunities."

Aziraphale crossed his arms. "And for getting yourself into trouble. I'm not helping you, Crawly."

"Aw, come on. Think about it. You don't want my hands on you? My mouth? My feet?"

Aziraphale did want that, very much indeed. He swallowed hard. "Anything I want?" His eyes glazed over. It had been so long since Crawly had touched him that way. And it had felt so good. "And all I have to do is—"

"Just one little lesson in matters of the heart. It'll be easy."

Aziraphale blinked and shook his head. "No! You're a demon, you're not supposed to sense love."

"Who cares about what I'm supposed to do?"

"Your side cares! You can either touch me or you can keep your hands to yourself, but I am not indulging this ridiculous notion of yours."

Crawly frowned.

"You're evil. Just. Continue being evil."

Crawly sighed. "I knew you were angry."

"I wasn't angry!" Aziraphale said, clearly fuming.

"Fine. See you around." Crawly got up to leave.

Aziraphale looked down at the ground. He thought about calling out to apologize. But in the end, he stayed quiet instead.

The truth was that they were both looking out for Crawly's well-being, in a way. Sadly, both of them were idiots, and poor communicators, so it took them a good hundred years before they even spoke again, but that was substantially better than the 1600 years they'd spent apart between their previous two meetings.

As has been stated: idiots, if the reader recalls.

When we look in on them again, they will have forgiven each other, and will have socialized fairly frequently in the meantime. Also, Crawly's new name will be Crowley. And so the story continues.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for chapter 2 to end on such a cliffhanger, so I have now added a few lines at the end to clarify where Aziraphale and Crowley are at as of the beginning of chapter 3. If you read it within the first day of me posting it, you may want to go back and read those new lines. :)

**Aquitaine, 1070**

It had taken hundreds of years to get to this point, but Aziraphale had finally been convinced to try an exchange of duties, a blessing for a temptation. He had insisted that they both be present the first time, to supervise and make sure it all goes as expected. If one of them did the task incorrectly, he had argued, Heaven or Hell could become suspicious, and that could have disastrous consequences for Crowley. They wound up sitting together in a tavern, observing the patrons and the staff, selecting their target.

"Don't they assign you a specific person for this sort of thing?" Aziraphale asked. He had finished his soup and pushed the bowl aside.

"Sometimes, when it's important.” Crowley shrugged and sipped his drink. “Today's one is just a quota sort of thing. Doesn't even matter what type of sin it is. Any preference?"

"Well, we _are_ in a restaurant. We could do gluttony."

"How do you mean?"

"What do you mean how do I mean? We're surrounded by food."

"Exactly. What is gluttony?"

"It's overindulgence to the point of..."

"To the point of cruelly depriving someone else of what you have," Crowley said. "You can't exactly have one person indulge at the expense of another when the other people would still have access to more food. Unless you're planning to have one person buy up the entire stock of the kitchen."

"Oh, right. That might be excessive."

"Eating up all that soup by themselves. They might die."

Aziraphale made a face. He thought on it for a moment. "Well I definitely don't think I'm ready to try wrath just yet."

"Shame. It's one of the easiest ones, wrath. Just give people a few minor inconveniences and they work _themselves_ up, just like that."

"Well. I'll take your word for it. Maybe I should take a closer look at who's here, and what they might be susceptible to."

"Do you know how to do it?"

Aziraphale concentrated, and reached out with his ethereal senses. "That young lady near the door, eating alone. I've got an idea of the shape of her body, the internal structure of her brain. I'm not quite sure how to translate that into anything useful."

"Can you see the flashes lighting up? The electricity running through?"

"Yes, of course."

"Where is it going?"

"Well, most of it at the moment is going to the parts of the brain related to taste and smell."

"How do you know they're the parts related to taste and smell?"

"Well they're—Well they just are." Aziraphale glared. "I _do_ have five thousand years of practice observing humans, you know. Those are the parts that do the most work when they're eating."

"And when else?"

"When they're hungry. Thinking about food. And dreaming sometimes."

"And the other parts that are lit up right now, the smaller ones, when are they active?"

Aziraphale concentrated and observed the smaller flashes. "Oh. She's—Do you think she's thinking about—" He blushed. "Sex?"

Crowley smiled. "Well done. You've already got the basics and we're only two minutes in. Top marks."

"But, but—" Aziraphale frowned. "I don't see how that helps us. I can't very well put a sinful idea into a person's head if the idea is already there."

"Ah, but you see, the person you're looking at now, that's not our target."

"She isn't?"

"Keep looking. See what other information you can get."

Aziraphale was at a loss. He didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for. He observed the other patrons, eating and talking. The cook, chopping vegetables. The clerk, thanking a customer, counting the coins. He brought his focus back to the lone soup eater, looked at the fine details of her brain. The basics were easy: food, sex, warmth, affection, safety. Those paint a very obvious picture when they light up, screaming out a person's every reaction as if they'd written it across their foreheads. But the complex thoughts, memories, imaginings... How could he ever read a person's specific desires the way Crowley could so easily?

But then it happened. The lady glanced toward the man working behind the counter, just for a moment, and tiny bursts rushed around her brain, just enough for Aziraphale to notice. There was the sex part of it of course, but that wasn't all. Some kind of recent memory was being activated. And _affection_.

"That lady is thinking about the clerk!"

Crowley smiled very widely. "I knew you could do it." He stroked his fingers over his neck pensively. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I suppose I should provoke some activity in the part of the clerk's brain that deals with sex. That should prompt a lustful thought all on its own, shouldn't it?"

"Well, it'll be more useful if you can associate it with her. If you do it immediately after he looks her way, or even better, while they're having a conversation, then he'll associate the thought with her. And then you're well on your way to prompting a lustful _act_, which is the whole point."

So Aziraphale waited until the patron walked over to return her bowl to the counter. She smiled at the clerk and thanked him. The moment he locked eyes on her to smile back, he was surprised to find himself struck by an intense but pleasurable sexual urge focused entirely on this near-stranger, her smile, her fingers on the bowl, her bare neck. She started to turn around.

Aziraphale poked the part of his brain dedicated to risk-taking, and all at once he was asking her to meet up after work. She happily agreed.

As Aziraphale and Crowley waited for the man’s workday to end, they chatted about this and that — the food, the town, the terms of their arrangement — but eventually Aziraphale came back to the matter at hand.

"This process, figuring out what they want. It seems very tedious, doesn't it?"

Crowley shrugged. "Not to me."

"No?"

"It's no more tedious than listening to a sound, or looking at a painting. It just sort of happens."

"So you don't have to go through all that guessing and waiting and deduction...?"

"Nah. I just... feel what they're wanting, it's easy."

"That sounds useful..."

"Maybe with enough practice you can get good at it, like becoming more literate by reading more."

"Do you think so?"

"Sure. And maybe if _I_ practice enough I could—" Crowley broke off suddenly.

"What?"

"Shh. Our young friend is back."

Aziraphale and Crowley were miraculously able to follow the pair out of the bar unnoticed. The two humans laughed and whispered to each other as they walked, and before long they were laughing and kissing and touching each other up against a wall.

Aziraphale was absolutely delighted. "Oh, Crowley, this is wonderful. Look how happy they are!" He smiled so widely.

Crowley gaped at him. "Really? No reservations?"

"Oh, pish, I know it's technically a sin, since the humans _believe_ it's a sin, what with them being strangers and unmarried, but just look at them! How can anyone look on this scene with anything but joy?"

The couple giggled, and they panted and moaned as things between them became more intense. They rubbed up against each other, still fully clothed.

"I'm so glad we did this. I'm just delighted." Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders. "Thank you, Crowley, for sharing this with me." He was looking at the couple, but Crowley was looking at him.

"So you'd want to do this again sometime?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered. "I still say it's incredibly dangerous. But the truth is, I thought I would hate it, the experience of it. But this is—" He glanced at Crowley. "Well. Don't get too used to it, but I suppose it's not what I thought it would be."

"Temptation, you mean? Or sex?"

Aziraphale watched the couple, a small smile on his face. He didn't answer.

* * *

**Florence, Italy, 1450**

It was mid-afternoon on a Thursday. Aziraphale had been staying in a cozy little brick house on a street of cozy little brick houses in Florence, and he was heading toward it with a package in his hand. All at once, Crowley was walking alongside him, having approached from behind. "Hello, Aziraphale."

“Crowley! What a pleasant surprise.” Aziraphale took in Crowley's warm expression, and his outfit — a long dress, so dark red it looked black if one wasn't paying attention — and smiled happily.

Crowley nodded toward the package. "Been doing some shopping? What did you get?”

“If you must know, I bought a sex toy." Aziraphale felt a bit scandalous, but the feeling excited him. "I’ve heard a lot about them, and I was interested in getting one of my own.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “A sex toy.”

“Yes, it’s actually rather clever. It’s shaped like a penis, but with a wide base so it can stand on its own. It’s carved out of wood, and sanded down and oiled until it’s very, very smooth. It’s really a splendid design.”

“And… what are you going to do with it?”

“Well, the way it works is, it’s inserted either into one’s vagina or anus, and the idea is that it feels similar to having sex with another person. The shop I got mine from does them in a few different sizes. Isn’t that nice?”

Crowley raised his head as if to nod but abandoned the gesture partway through. “Ngk,” he agreed.

“Anyway, it’s lovely to see you again, Crowley. We’re just coming up to my door now though, so I’m afraid I’ll have to say my goodbyes.”

Crowley was stock-still for a moment, then blinked, the way one imagines a robot might blink upon rebooting. “You could invite me in.”

“Oh, well you see, I would like that very much, except I’m actually a bit impatient to try out my new toy…”

“How... would you feel about giving a bit of a demonstration? Show me how it works?”

“Oh!" Aziraphale paused. He swallowed, licked his lips, and looked at Crowley's face. "Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale had absolutely no idea how he was going to answer until he did. “Well then, of course, please come in.” He let them both in, locked the door, and led the way through the house. He turned and nodded toward Crowley’s dress. "Er. By the way, are you a woman again?"

"No, not right now. It's 'he' at the moment."

"Still 'Crowley' though." 

"Yeah."

"Do people have any problem with the way you dress?"

Crowley shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me if they do."

"Well, you look lovely." 

Crowley glowered and pretended he wasn't blushing. When they entered the bedroom, he took off his sunglasses and put them on the dresser.

Aziraphale unwrapped the dildo and put it on the bed. Then he miracled a soft armchair into existence. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll just—” He started to undress in the human way, one garment at a time, undoing all the ties and fastenings as he went. He barely looked at Crowley at all, but the feeling of being looked at himself was all over his skin. Although he had undressed in front of others before, even in sexual situations, this was the most intense undressing of his life. Long before he had finished taking off his clothes and putting them away, he was hard.

Finally, as he sat on the edge of the bed, he looked over at Crowley, who was lounging in the chair, leaning to the side with his chin in his hand. Aziraphale settled on the bed facing Crowley, feeling very vulnerable indeed. It took several moments, and quite a few beats of his heart, before he could bring himself to spread his knees. He looked for judgment on Crowley's face, and saw none.

He picked up the dildo and stroked a hand over it, slicking it up with a small miracle. He laid back, and pressed it up against his anus. It was thicker than his fingers, by quite a lot actually, and so there was more resistance than he was used to. He closed his eyes, and pushed in just a bit. Exhaled. Pushed deeper. It was... strange, but so sensual. The warm, smooth, hard pressure of it in such a sensitive place. He laid there a moment, his chest rising and falling. He was acutely aware of the sound of Crowley's breathing. Not louder than usual, but somehow thundering in his ears. He pushed the dildo in as far as it would go, and rocked his body as the solidity of it set off waves of pleasure that made him moan out loud.

“Does that feel good?”

“Oh, Crowley. I can't tell you how good it feels.” He panted and stroked his penis. But when he tensed up with pleasure, the dildo slipped out. He reached down to push it back in. He tried to hold it in place with one hand while stroking himself with the other. He curled up his torso in order to reach. After a moment he sighed with frustration. "I only wish—" He laughed. He opened his eyes and looked at Crowley. “Actually, could we swap places? I think I’d like to try, erm, sitting on it.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. He got up and stood aside. Aziraphale pulled the dildo out, stood up, and placed it on its base on the chair. He gingerly backed down onto the tip of it, hands on his knees, and looked up at Crowley who was settling on the bed. Aziraphale reached down and held the dildo in place with one hand, and slowly sank down onto it, thighs straining. _"Ohh!"_ He put his hands on the arms of the chair and raised himself up before sinking back down again. "Oh, mm..." And again. He bit his lip and panted with the exertion.

Crowley asked: "Is that better?"

"Ah..." 

"Seems like you don't have enough hands."

Aziraphale, not stopping his movements, answered breathlessly. "Not sure... what to do instead."

"I might have an idea."

Aziraphale stopped, and squirmed, with the dildo still inside him. He looked up at Crowley's pensive face.

Crowley looked over the chair, and Aziraphale's naked body, and tapped his chin consideringly. "What if you put it on the arm of the chair. You could have one knee on the seat and the other foot on the floor. Might have an easier time moving up and down that way. And it would free up your hands."

Aziraphale did as Crowley suggested, and he found that he did have much more control over the way he moved on the dildo. It felt incredible, and he was able to grab his penis and stroke it quickly as he bounced up and down. He moaned out loud, all frustration gone. There was nothing but pleasure. 

He looked up at Crowley, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rapt. All at once, Aziraphale was jolted straight through by an abrupt orgasm. He shouted and shut his eyes. He heard a sound from Crowley, a soft, surprised gasp. Aziraphale moaned as he raised himself partway off the dildo, squeezed his penis, and sunk down again. He laughed, a bit delirious, and a bit overjoyed.

"Oh my word, that was wonderful." He opened his eyes. His semen had shot far enough to hit the bed and Crowley's dress. Aziraphale sat for a moment, panting, tensing his thighs. He pulled the dildo out slowly, slowly, groaning softly as he did. He stood up, miracled the dildo clean, and placed it on the bed. He smiled happily at Crowley, and sat on the edge of the mattress near Crowley's feet.

“Could I give it a try?”

Aziraphale's mouth dropped open. "Oh! Certainly!" He made a complicated and enthusiastic gesture which was meant to indicate: 'Go ahead!'

Crowley laid back and pulled his skirts up, looking entirely at ease. He accepted the dildo from Aziraphale and rewetted it with a touch. Aziraphale felt conflicted watching Crowley part his knees and put the dildo between his legs. Perhaps he should look away? But surely Crowley wouldn't be doing this now if he didn't want Aziraphale to see.

Crowley pushed the dildo slowly into his vagina and exhaled a long, slow sigh. He held it in place and squirmed around a little. 

“Could you… Would you be able to hold it in place?”

Aziraphale found himself feeling so aroused he didn’t know what to do with himself. And so soon after his orgasm! “Yes, of course.” He blushed, and hesitated, feeling awkward about reaching between Crowley’s legs. Leaning forward, he held two fingers against the base of the dildo. He tried his best not to touch skin, though he wanted to. “Would you like me to move it in and out?”

“Hmm.” Crowley reached down to lazily circle two fingers around his clitoris. “Slowly.”

Aziraphale moved his hand to grip the base of the dildo, and as he did couldn’t help touching skin, right by Crowley's entrance. It was soft, and warm, and wet. He pulled out slowly, and pushed back in again. Crowley reached his free arm up to rest by his head and sighed contentedly. “Mmm…” He rubbed a bit harder. “Alright, faster now.”

Aziraphale thrust harder in and out. He was overcome by a desperate vision in his imagination of Crowley crying out with pleasure. 

Crowley breathed deeply, raised one knee up, and turned his head to the side. He pressed his clitoris with the flats of his fingers. “Unh…” he panted. “Alright.” Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s to still it. He relaxed there on his back for a moment, then leaned up on one elbow and pulled the dildo out.

“Oh.” Aziraphale sat up and brought his hands to his thighs. “Are you finished? You didn’t, that is, you didn’t appear to, erm, have an orgasm.”

“That’s alright.” Crowley sat up, and did look genuinely content. He miracled his fluids and Aziraphale’s away with a sweep of his hand.

“Then you’re not unsatisfied…?”

Crowley’s eyes crinkled. “You worry too much, angel.” He set to work straightening the layers of his dress, smoothing it where it had gotten bunched. Aziraphale sat and watched, and considered what he wanted to say. 

“You know,” Aziraphale’s tone suggested he was joking, but his heart was racing. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re trying to tempt me into something.”

“Oh really. And what is it, exactly, that you feel tempted to do?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks warmed. A flash of an image raced through his mind: pushing Crowley onto his back, forcing his knees apart, licking his clitoris urgently, gasping, feeling his legs squeeze, hearing him finally shout out loud. Aziraphale’s neck and ears also warmed. And between his legs, a different sort of warmth was demanding attention too.

“Er. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Crowley smirked, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream. His gaze seemed to bore right into Aziraphale. “Don’t worry. I think we’ve both already gotten what we came here for.”

Aziraphale blushed hotly. "I should thank you,” he said, “for, um. It was nice to have company for this. That might be a strange thing to say, but. Well. It was a very nice time."

Crowley grinned. "It was. Have you ever... with another person?"

"I have! Several times now. You?"

"Oh yes. Seduction has been a tool in my toolbox for quite a long time now."

"Ah. Part of your work. Of course."

"Tell me about one of your rendezvous. The most recent one, say."

If Aziraphale could have blushed any hotter, he would have. He turned his face away, but couldn’t help looking back again. "I shouldn't really..."

"Did you enjoy it?"

He hesitated, then said: "Very much."

Crowley grinned. "I'm scandalized. Where did it take place? In a bed?"

"Actually," Aziraphale cleared his throat. "It was out of doors. It was a lovely warm night, a nearly full moon, she and I had walked out to a grassy area surrounded by trees—"

"And you fucked her right there on the ground?" Crowley was delighted.

"Er. If I understand your meaning, it was the other way around."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. "You like being topped by ladies, do you?"

"Well, to be honest, at the time I thought she was a man. But I ran into her again about a decade later and she was dressed differently, more femininely, according to the customs of the area, so I asked, and it turned out she was a woman. She had changed her name in the meantime, just like you."

"So you like being topped, just in general." Crowley had a twinkle in his eye. 

"Well, in terms of position, I'm not especially particular."

Crowley laughed. "You know, we should get a meal some time."

"I'd like that." Aziraphale smiled. "I can't this evening. I've got a blessing that needs doing in a couple of hours."

"Well, come round to mine whenever you're free. I'm staying at that inn with the bird mural on the side, the room on the south east corner."

"I will. Some time in the next few days."

Crowley reached over to touch Aziraphale's thigh. "Good." 

Aziraphale felt a little flustered at the touch, but then realized Crowley was only miracling away some ejaculate before pulling away. He ducked his head. "I'm looking forward to it," he said. And he was.

* * *

Aziraphale arrived at Crowley’s door the following evening and knocked. 

He stood there and shuffled from foot to foot. He listened for noise through the door and didn’t hear any. 

He knocked again. “Crowley? Are you there?”

He waited another moment. It was hot out, and he was wearing too many layers. He pulled at his collar. A man and woman left another of the suites, probably on their way to their own dinner. 

He considered leaving and coming back tomorrow. He thought about spending the evening alone in his house. It would be perfectly fine. He was used to it by now. 

Then he thought about sitting across the table from Crowley and saying something to make him smile, and arguing and commiserating about this and that, and sharing little bites of dessert. He miracled the door open. 

"Crowley? I'm coming in, alright?" He closed the door behind him. “Are you decent?"

As he stepped beyond the entryway and into the wider living area, he saw the huge black snake coiled up in a patch of sun on the floor. "Oh, there you are! Sorry to just waltz in like this, I didn't want to go away without at least trying—Crowley?" Crowley didn't respond. He just laid there, yellow eyes shining in a sunbeam. 

Aziraphale stepped closer and knelt down. "Have I done something to upset you, my dear?" He reached down and stroked his hand along Crowley's smooth scales. 

Crowley's little head jerked up and all at once he was stretching himself out, widening the length of his body, and transforming into a human shape in a rush. "Shit!" He ended up sprawled on his front on the floor, dressed as he had been the last time Aziraphale had seen him, in the dark red dress. “Fuck everything, I didn't mean to fall asleep!"

Aziraphale jerked back. “I— It's alright, I'm not in any hurry. If you need some time to get ready—"

Crowley got up into a seated position. "I didn't want you to see me—"

“What—? That’s— Crowley. I've seen you as a snake before. When we first met, remember?"

"That's different! That was for the job. This is just—" He rubbed his hands over his face. "In my spare time, because I—"

"My dear, there's no need to be embarrassed. You're rather beautiful as a snake, you know."

"Shut up." Crowley glared. 

"Well, there's no need to lash out." Aziraphale huffed. 

"You're the one who barged in like you own the place!"

Aziraphale crossed his arms. "Do you want me to leave?"

Crowley took a deep breath and exhaled through gritted teeth. 

Aziraphale started to stand.

"No,” Crowley said. “Stay. Let me just. Need to wake up a bit."

Aziraphale sat on the sofa. “I'm sorry for invading your privacy. Perhaps I should have knocked louder."

"'S fine." Crowley got up off the floor, moving stiffly and tensing his jaw. 

"Is it more comfortable for you? Being a snake?"

"We're not talking about this."

"Because I don't mind what you look like."

_"Angel!"_

"Fine. Just." He waved a hand. "Let me know when you're ready."

* * *

**London, 1601**

Aziraphale was in his London flat, masturbating, lying on the bed that only existed for this purpose. He was on top of the bedcovers, and fully clothed but with his breeches open, lazily stroking his penis.

There was a knock at the front door. He raised his head and contemplated whether to get up and open it. It was only a second, though, before he heard Crowley call out in a friendly voice: "It's me!" 

Aziraphale unlocked the door with a snap of his fingers. When he heard it open he called: "I'm in the bedroom! Lock the door behind you!"

He stayed where he was and made no move to cover himself as Crowley appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Crowley." He smiled happily. "Sorry, I was just masturbating. Do you need me urgently?"

Crowley shrugged their shoulders, unperturbed. "Nah, no rush. Just thought I'd invite you out to eat."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, thank you." Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders as he lowered his head back to the pillow and continued to stroke himself.

"Is it alright if I watch, or do you want your privacy?"

"No, please go right ahead. You can pull up a chair, or join me on the bed if you prefer."

Crowley took off their shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, with one leg tucked under themself.

"Where were you thinking of going?" Aziraphale panted slightly, and his penis twitched in his hand.

"I've heard about a bakery with outdoor seating, when the weather's good, and they have these little pastry dessert things with crumbly edges, and sugar on top. As well as biscuits and cakes and other things. Came highly recommended from the bloke who sold me my shoes."

Aziraphale moaned softly.

"Thought it sounded like your kind of thing."

Aziraphale tilted his head back, took a deep breath, squeezed his penis, and got himself calmed down a bit. "Mm..." His voice was breathy as he responded: "Sorry, I—caught most of that. It sounds absolutely splendid."

Crowley smirked and took on a mocking tone of voice. "You're not distracted are you?"

Aziraphale laughed.

"Thinking about anything good?"

Aziraphale blushed, embarrassed, but in a way that felt strangely good. It was exciting to be talking about his private thoughts without any fear that he'd be judged for them. "I'm going to a play later this week. And the actor playing the lead role, I've seen him before and he's, well, he's very good, and very, er—"

"Hot?"

He somehow blushed harder. "He's very attractive."

"Got plans to seduce him after the show?"

"Crowley! I don't do that."

"You told me you did!"

"I told you I have sex. I don't seduce anyone. I wait for them to approach _me."_

"Whatever for?"

Aziraphale was just absentmindedly fondling himself now. He wasn't in any hurry. "Sex between unmarried people is a sin. If I convince them to do it when they wouldn't otherwise, I'm corrupting them, but if they were already looking for someone to have sex with, it doesn't make a difference if it's with me or with someone else. They were going to be sinning anyway."

"Has anyone ever told you you have a deliciously devious mind? You'd make a good demon."

"Oh, hush, you."

Crowley took off their sunglasses and put them on the bedside table, then moved to lay down beside Aziraphale. They looked at Aziraphale's body, and the movement of his hand. "How long do you generally have to wait? Between seductions?"

"A few decades usually. Half a century. I don't tend to make an effort to make it happen, typically, but..."

"But...?"

"I was thinking I might, you know..."

"Start seducing people?"

"Start hanging around places where people go when they're looking for sex. I was thinking it would be nice to do it more often." 

"I might have some ideas for you, if you're interested. Places to go and the like."

"Thank you. I have a few ideas of my own, actually, but I'll keep that in mind."

Crowley nestled their body closer to Aziraphale’s, leaning their forehead against his shoulder. "So tell me more about this actor." They pressed their legs against Aziraphale's and rested a hand on Aziraphale's bicep. Aziraphale felt their warmth and closeness as he stroked himself and brought himself to orgasm. Then the two of them went out to lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains very brief mentions of daddy kink and spanking. I didn’t put them in the tags because they’re so insubstantial but I didn’t want them to take anyone by surprise in a bad way. Also, there is dirty talk about fucking machines, but no fucking machines actually appear in this story.

**Soho, London, 1776 AD**

"I like this area."

"Mm?"

"It’s fashionable right now, and it has some lovely churches. The population is interesting, as well." Aziraphale looked around at the buildings as he and Crowley walked together. "I wonder if this would be a good place to open a shop."

"What sort of shop?" 

"A bookshop. I've been thinking for a few decades that I might need a better place to store my collection."

Crowley turned his gaze to look at him. "But people might buy them."

"Oh, I'm sure it won't come to that." Aziraphale waved the thought away. "Anyway, a shop would provide a convenient cover story as well, for when I'm asked what I do. It's sometimes a bit troublesome not to have an explanation for how I earn money."

"Just do what I do. Act mysterious and intimidating enough that everyone thinks you’re a crime lord."

Aziraphale gave him a fond, skeptical look. "Oh, I'm sure I could never be as mysterious and intimidating as you." He nudged Crowley’s elbow. "When we get to the orgy, would you be willing to help me figure out who might be interested in me?"

"You know how to do that. You've been doing it for centuries, haven't you?"

"Well, yes, but you're so much better at it than I am. Less prone to mistakes."

_"Mistakes?_ What did you do?" Crowley grinned.

"Well." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "There was one time when it turned out the person I was with had been expecting to be paid, and thought I was trying to stiff him. I had to do a bit of grovelling and explain that I was perfectly happy to pay, I simply hadn't realized that was the arrangement.”

Crowley's grin took over his whole face. He looked absolutely delighted.

"And then the next time I was in a similar situation, someone flirting with me in a very forward way, I thought it would be best to be very clear about things, so I asked her outright whether she wanted me to pay her."

"You didn't!"

"I did. And I wound up rather, er, slapped."

Crowley guffawed. It was very undignified. "But you can tell when humans are having lustful thoughts, I've seen you!"

"Yes, but in those particular cases I just mentioned, I thought the two people in question were experiencing similar amounts of lust as each other. Which is to say: a little bit but not a lot. Looking back I wonder if perhaps that second one might have been settling for me and would have preferred someone else."

"Maybe for the best it didn't work out then."

"Perhaps."

When they arrived at the house where the orgy was being held, Crowley knew what to say to get in. He was, it turned out, acquainted with a friend of the host. The event itself was spread across multiple bedrooms, and additional mattresses had been laid out on the floor. Some people were already in the thick of things, while others were watching or chatting or drinking. Aziraphale clutched his chest delightedly.

"What a happy room this is! There's so much excitement and affection here. I'm so glad." He bumped Crowley's shoulder with his own. "Look at those three. The two who are kissing each other, they’re so in love, it's coming off them in waves. There's so much trust between them, and so much giddiness. I wonder if it's their first time involving an additional person." He turned to look at him. "Are you sensing any of this, Crowley?"

"Mm, I think the things I'm sensing are a little different."

"Anything good?"

He looked around a moment. "That nervous young man in the corner." He nodded toward him.

"Blue waistcoat? Necklace?"

"That's the one. Right now he has a very specific desire in relation to you."

"Really? What is it?"

"He wants to call you Daddy."

"Oh my. Do I remind him of his father?"

"No. That's not what—You're older, attractive, very formally dressed... He wants you to discipline him."

"Oh, I see. Hopefully just because he has a fetish and not because he's feeling ashamed about something?"

Crowley shrugged. "Could be a bit of both."

"Oh dear, really?"

"Angel, look at him. He's wearing a cross while eyeing up an older man at an orgy."

Aziraphale frowned. "I see." He rocked on his feet as he thought. "Well, hopefully I can help him to feel a little better about things."

"Multitasking, are we?"

"There's no reason a person can't receive both a blessing and a spanking on the same night."

Crowley laughed. "You have fun with that. Me, I've spotted a few people who are ready to give in to their temptations. One of them is here without his wife's knowledge, and he reeeally wants to come on my face. Think I'd best go introduce myself."

Aziraphale patted his arm distractedly. "Alright, well have a nice time, my dear."

"Come and tap me on the shoulder when you're ready to leave and I'll walk you home, alright? Even if I'm in the middle of things."

Aziraphale turned toward him and smiled with gratitude. "Oh, thank you. I'll see you in a bit."

Aziraphale approached the young man Crowley had pointed out and asked him if he wanted company. He did. His name was Thomas and he was desperate to be touched after so many years of depriving himself. He was shy and lovely when he smiled down at Aziraphale’s chest. 

He confessed his desires, and Aziraphale assured him that the punishment he was about to receive was not because he deserved it, but because he wanted it. Thomas moved his body so beautifully under Aziraphale’s hands. He begged and cried out as Aziraphale spanked him and held him down by the back of the neck. He came, gasping, rocking against Aziraphale’s thigh. Aziraphale held him close as he sobbed and shook, then kissed his forehead and forgave him everything. 

Once he was calm, Thomas laughed and apologized for being a burden, and Aziraphale assured him he wasn’t. Thomas then admitted to an intense longing to take Aziraphale into his mouth. He did it wonderfully and enthusiastically, and Aziraphale came, and called him good and sweet and dear. 

After Aziraphale had ensured that Thomas was happy and satisfied, and had bid him goodnight, he set off in search of Crowley. He found him on his hands and knees being rather aggressively ravished by two men, one at each end. A third was sitting beside him, whispering in his ear and playing with the mess of semen in Crowley’s hair. Aziraphale sat and watched as they finished before calling Crowley’s name to get his attention. Crowley cleaned himself up with a miracle, dealing with a spot of ejaculate on Aziraphale's trousers at the same time, which made Aziraphale go pink with affection.

They had a lovely chummy walk home in the night air, bumping shoulders and laughing as they recounted the evening's escapades. That was when Aziraphale decided: this was the neighbourhood for him.

* * *

**1859**

Aziraphale and Crowley were naked together, on the bed in the flat above the bookshop. Aziraphale was on his back, enjoying the squirmy, wriggly, long-limbed weight of Crowley on top of him, as they touched and kissed and talked. It wasn't the first time they had done this, and it wasn't urgent, bashful, or unsure. In fact it was becoming pleasantly familiar.

Aziraphale was in the middle of a story: "I'm not sure what the official name is going to be once they're finally being produced and distributed, but the term I've heard for them thus far is, well it's a bit crude. Something machines. The first word starts with F."

Crowley threw his head back and laughed. "Fucking machines?!"

"Precisely. The current prototype is taking quite a long time to get working. I'm getting a little annoyed. I admit, I'm sorely tempted to go over there and miracle up a working demo, for no other reason than so I can have one."

"And I'm sure there'd be absolutely no repercussions from Heaven about that."

"Mm. And once it _is_ ready, it looks like it'll be horribly impractical. It's quite a large thing. In fact the engine will take up an entire room. And that's not to mention the _noise."_

"Are you sure you want one of these things?"

"Oh, yes. Can you just imagine it? An artificial penis pumping in and out, rhythmically, forcefully, not just for minutes but for _hours,_ if that's what one wants. Just pounding away without ever getting tired."

Crowley lowered his head and grinned against Aziraphale's neck. "As much as I like watching you enjoy yourself, I don't know that I'd want to watch you for hours at a time." He placed a few kisses there.

"Ah, but that would be part of the joy of it. You could set it running, watch for a bit, and then walk out of the room whenever you pleased and know that I'm still being serviced to my heart's content. And later on you could come back in if you wished and watch some more."

"Oh, so you wouldn't need me anymore, is that it?"

"On the contrary. Part of the fantasy is that I'd be on my back being penetrated by this machine, and you would be on top of me, kissing me, pressing your body against mine. I would be delirious and overstimulated and you would be there to take advantage of the situation, touching me everywhere and rubbing yourself on me."

Crowley ground down against Aziraphale's erection. "Like this?" 

Aziraphale moaned, and took a moment to catch his breath. "Exactly like this. Except..."

"Except what?"

"Except perhaps I would try something a little different. In terms of my body. Perhaps I would have a vulva."

Crowley kept moving, and kept kissing. "You could have one now."

Aziraphale took a few breaths. "I've never done it before."

"Just copy mine. Sense the shape of it, where the nerves and blood vessels go, the softness of the skin..."

Aziraphale concentrated. With a shimmer of a miracle, he transformed, and Crowley raised himself up higher on his hands and knees so Aziraphale could look down at himself. He reached down and touched his vulva with his hand.

"How is it?"

"I feel a bit scandalized. I've spent so long not doing this—I don't know what I thought would happen."

"Feels nice though?" Crowley brought his hand to Aziraphale's and entwined their fingers. Together they fondled between Aziraphale’s labia, and he felt the brushing of their fingertips over his clitoris. 

Aziraphale's eyes fluttered shut. "It's—Oh. It's very nice. A bit different, but a bit the same."

"Sensitive?"

"Yes."

"You want my fingers inside you?"

Aziraphale moaned out loud without meaning to. He nodded. When he felt the tips of Crowley's long fingers dip inside, he gasped and thrust his hips up. "Oh, Crowley..." He did it again and again until the two fingers were all the way in and rubbing inside. 

"I love being with you when you try new things. The sounds you make..."

Aziraphale ground his body up against Crowley's hand. "Oh!"

"You'd better invite me over when you get that fucking machine."

"Yes, yes. I won't try it without you—Hnnnh..."

"Should just stay here always, so I don't miss anything." Crowley angled his wrist for better reach, and pushed his fingers even deeper.

"Crowley—"

"I could live here. Don't know why I ever leave." Crowley moved down the bed and kissed Aziraphale's body as he went: his sensitive neck, his rising and falling chest, his soft abdomen. Still stroking inside with his fingers, he brought his mouth to Aziraphale's clitoris and licked and licked. As he did, he pressed firmly with his tongue and didn't let up for a moment.

"Mm! Crowley, _Crowley!" _

Aziraphale cried out as his orgasm overtook him, and he squirted wetness all over Crowley's chin and hand. It dripped onto the sheets as he throbbed and tensed and moaned. He panted and squirmed, chest heaving, and gripped Crowley's hair with his hands.

As he came back to himself, he took deep, calming breaths, a sappy smile on his face. "Oh, Crowley, that was wonderful." 

Crowley gently pulled his fingers out, and flicked his tongue out once again, prompting a small aftershock. He crawled back up the bed and laid along Aziraphale's side. He draped one arm and one leg on top of him. "So what about it?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale was still smiling dreamily. "Anything you want, my dear." He sighed a deep, contented sigh.

* * *

Aziraphale didn't bring it up again, the idea of the two of them living together, but after a few hours he did remember agreeing to it. He deeply regretted the possibility that he might have been leading Crowley on, but he couldn't risk the harm that could come to Crowley if they forgot themselves. Crowley didn't bring it up again either, though whether that was because he was waiting for Aziraphale to say something, or because he'd never meant to ask in the first place, Aziraphale could only wonder.

Later, Crowley asked for holy water, and they fought about it, and then they didn't speak for decades. Aziraphale never got that fucking machine, and by the time he came back around to the idea, there were vibrators, which seemed much more practical. Crowley missed Aziraphale's first experiments with those, but that was his own fault for being stubborn.

The next time they saw each other, Aziraphale was in need of rescue, and all his old feelings came flooding back.

* * *

**1941**

"Oh, the books! I forgot _all_ the books!" Aziraphale felt sick. His books of prophecy, some of them first editions, some of them signed, irreplaceable... "Oh, they'll all be blown to—"

Movement, from the corner of his eye. Crowley was heading with intention toward... The bag of books. Perfectly intact, still being held in the perfectly intact hand of the very exploded Mr. Harmony. He wrenched the bag free and handed it over with an attractive smugness. "Little demonic miracle of my own." Aziraphale could hardly move, could hardly breathe, but he accepted the bag, and couldn't take his eyes off Crowley, who offered "Lift home?" as he walked past Aziraphale, and away toward the street.

Aziraphale wanted to cry with relief. Possibly he did. In all the excitement, he'd forgotten, for just a moment, about his most prized possessions in the world, in all his six millennia of life. He could never have forgiven himself if he'd lost them. For just a moment, he'd forgotten, and Crowley hadn't.

For much too long a moment, he could do nothing but grip the bag and stare after him — Anthony J. Crowley, they had called him — in his dapper suit and hat. Aziraphale's poor heart made itself known with a rapid thumping like a bass drum in his chest. The comforting warmth he'd always felt around Crowley was now a burning sun. 

He was a being of love. He always had been. He loved all beings, all of humanity, all of their creations, and all of Heaven besides. Loving was what he was meant for. But this? How had he never seen it before? This was not the same as his love for all creation! This love was different. This demon was special. He was in love. 

He was in love! He convinced his feet to move and followed Crowley to the car, smiling with elation and dancing on air.

Oh, what should he do? What _could_ he do? Perhaps they could hold hands in the car. Perhaps when Crowley dropped him off, he would ask to walk him to his door, and he would kiss him goodnight on the threshold. Perhaps Aziraphale would invite him to stay for the night, or the week, or the year.

And that's what did it. As quickly as the joy had arrived, it was gone. He could do none of those things. He _would_ do none of those things. For all the kindness Crowley had shown him, he was still a demon, and he was still bound by Hell's rules. Demons fuck, but they don't give tender kisses in they moonlight, and they _certainly_ don't move in. They don't have relationships built on love. And if they do, they pay for it with their lives.

He got into the car, where Crowley was waiting. "Alright?" Crowley asked.

"Perfectly." Aziraphale smiled sadly and held the bag of books on his lap. The events of the evening played out in a loop in his mind. He watched the buildings and street lamps go past.

He told himself to stop wanting things he couldn't have. He'd been so foolish. With Crowley, with his own feelings, with the meeting with those Nazis...

"Tell me what's the matter." Crowley was looking at him, not paying any attention to the road. 

Aziraphale swallowed. Of _course_ his distress was obvious. He groped around for something to say apart from 'I've just realized I've been in love with you for ages.' He shook his head. "Just thinking. What a disaster it all was. Me, trying to play the hero like a dashing spy from an action film. Marching in, all bluster and bravado."

Crowley gave a little smile. "You _were_ a bit dashing."

"I did exactly what Rose had instructed me to, with exactly as much blind obedience as she'd expected. 'Our side know all about you two.'" He sighed. "Rose—Well, Greta, I suppose. Crowley, I've been such a fool." He looked down at his hands on the bag in his lap. "She roped me in so easily. I had had doubts about the plan. Serious, substantial doubts. I worried what would happen if our targets suspected a trap. I wondered why she'd chosen me in particular. I thought briefly about checking her backstory more closely. All of it left my mind completely when she seduced me. That was all it took. She filled my head with fantasies, told me what a hero I would be, how good and noble, and she seduced me, right in the back room of my shop, and that was it. I agreed to the whole plan, no questions asked."

"It turned out alright in the end though, didn't it?"

"That's not the point. What if you hadn't been there? I clearly can't be trusted to make sound decisions, not where sex is involved. It's too tempting. It's too distracting. Perhaps it's best if I don't do it anymore."

"At all? _Ever?!"_

"I don't know. I don't know." He sighed. "Remember when I first became interested in the idea, way back when? I was so taken with the love and joy involved, the intimacy and affection. That's not why I do it now. It's not about affection. It's certainly not about _love._ It's purely the physical pleasure, the stimulating of the nerves. Just nerves. Surely I can achieve that on my own. Maybe it's better that way."

Crowley glanced at the road, then back at Aziraphale. "You've had a stressful evening. You'll feel better in the morning, you'll see. You just need to give it some time."

Aziraphale frowned. "Crowley..." 

"It's one little mistake."

"I abandoned all rational thought for the sake of an orgasm! And as a result, you blew up a church!"

"It's not as if there's a shortage. There's plenty of churches. One on every corner, almost."

_"Crowley."_ Aziraphale closed his eyes. "Thank you, ever so much, for everything you've done. I made such a mess of things, and you've contained the damage, as you always do. I can't properly express how grateful I am. But don't try to change my mind. I need to distance myself from..." He looked out the window. "From sex, for my own sake. Remind myself that I'm fine without it. If I'm no longer a person who does it, then I can't be distracted by it, or manipulated with it, or fooled into taking stupid risks I was never comfortable with in the first place. It's fine. I'll be perfectly fine. I was for the first two thousand years of my existence, and I will be again."

"If that's what you want."

"It is."

They were pulling up to the curb outside the shop. Crowley parked the car and turned off the engine. "I'll walk you to your door, shall I?"

Aziraphale's heart broke. "Better not." He got out of the car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned [some beautiful artwork](https://likearumchocolatesouffle.tumblr.com/post/189095385115/this-is-the-artwork-i-had-commissioned-by) by Aivelin so I could see Crowley's shorts-and-flowy-top outfit with my own eyes. It's so good! Please give [Aivelin](https://aivelin.tumblr.com/) a follow if you like it! (NSFW art at that last link.)

**2019**

Time passed. Crowley's style of dress changed several times, and Aziraphale's didn't. They spent time together, at museums and cafes, and they spent time apart. They helped to raise the wrong child, but the apocalypse was successfully averted anyway. They made themselves look like each other, down to the atom, attended each other's trials, and survived each other's punishments. Aziraphale said: "I think it would be best for everyone if I were left alone in future. Don't you?" He looked Beelzebub right in the eye, and received an anxious nod of agreement. They were going to be alright. Heaven, and more importantly Hell, would leave them alone, and they could be together. Aziraphale felt a thread of tension loosen from around his heart for the first time in several millennia. They would be alright.

* * *

Aziraphale was sitting comfortably in a bergère armchair in the shop, reading a book, still technically on duty, but hidden from view of the front door by some of the bookcases in between. Crowley, as an enormous snake, slithered into his peripheral vision, having presumably come down the stairs from the flat after his nap.

"Oh, there you are, my dear." Aziraphale smiled. This was the first time Crowley had appeared as a snake in front of him since the argument in 1450, and Aziraphale was determined not to make a fuss over it. "Come to keep me company?"

Crowley slithered close to the chair.

"Could I ask, are your pronouns the same when you're a snake?"

Crowley raised part of his body and simultaneously lowered his head, and the result came out looking remarkably like a shrug. "Ss'pose."

"Alright." Aziraphale looked at his book for a moment, but then realized he hadn’t taken any of it in. "Crowley, please feel free to refuse, but I was wondering if I might stroke you."

There was no reaction at first, then Crowley hissed: "Yess."

Crowley was close enough to touch, if Aziraphale reached out. Aziraphale held his book on his knee with one hand, and with the other he stroked Crowley's scales, starting from his head and moving down as far as he could reach. Then he repeated the motion again and again, enjoying the textures and the closeness. He sighed deeply. "What a beautiful creature you are. You’re so lovely and smooth."

Crowley drew himself up and laid part of his body across Aziraphale's lap, though he was long enough that quite a lot of him still draped across the floor.

"You must let me know if you want me to stop. I feel I could do this all day."

They rested together like that for some time, Aziraphale caressing his hand across Crowley's body while he read, and Crowley doing nothing but enjoying Aziraphale's touch.

Of course, it wasn't often that Aziraphale was fortunate enough to go a full day without a customer, and eventually the bell chimed above the door. Someone’s shoes clicked toward the opposite end of the room, while a young child poked his head around a bookcase.

"Wow, cool! Can I pet your snake?"

"Er, well…" Aziraphale chided himself for not having thought to discuss this possibility ahead of time. He thought fast. "You may approach him slowly. If he backs his head away or tenses his body up, then you must leave him alone, but otherwise you may pet him as long as he seems relaxed."

The child stepped closer and reached out a tentative hand to pet a coil of Crowley's body on the floor. Crowley stayed just as relaxed as he had been. 

"I thought he would be slimy!"

"He does look very shiny doesn’t he? But he’s really quite clean and dry."

"What’s his name?"

"Erm…" Not Anthony. It would be very strange if he told someone his pet snake’s name was Anthony, and then later the same person met the human-shaped Anthony. “J.”

"Like the bird?"

"No, like the letter of the alphabet."

"What does it stand for?"

"Nothing, it’s just a J."

"Is he poisonous?"

"Hm. I think he could be quite deadly if he wanted to, but I don’t think he would need any venom in order to achieve that."

Just then a panicked voice called: "Tyler! Get away from that thing! It’s time to go." The child's mother walked just close enough to take his hand and drag him out the door.

Crowley drew himself up and draped himself around Aziraphale's shoulders like a scarf. He hissed brokenly into his ear, a strange little laugh.

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Yess."

"I suppose I should thank you for scaring my customers away." Aziraphale couldn't help smiling. "Um, did I do the right thing, with the child wanting to pet you?"

Crowley swung his head up and down in a nod. "Thankss. For leaving it up to me."

"You’re welcome." He went right on petting him.

Crowley was as relaxed as he had ever been. He lowered his head to lay on Aziraphale's chest, and softly hissed: "I love you." All at once he tensed up his body, making tight S shapes with his coils. 

Aziraphale paused, hovering his hand over Crowley. Then he continued petting him. "My dear, you do know I can sense love. There's no need to be nervous."

Crowley raised up until he was eye-level with Aziraphale. "You know how I feel...?"

"Well... Something I think I should make clear is that love isn’t a feeling." He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, choosing his words as he went. "Of course it _causes_ strong feelings, so the one thing can get mistaken for the other, but love itself isn’t just an emotion. It’s a… It’s an energy. It radiates from a person the way light radiates from a star. It can be vague and directionless, or it can be quite focused, and it lingers on the object of love for some time, even after the source of it is no longer there. Sometimes on other things too: places and items. It’s wonderful, it’s a shame you can’t detect it yourself."

Aziraphale wondered at how strangely easy it seemed to talk about this subject, with Crowley looking so different from usual. 

"But yes, I can sense your love. It comes off you in waves, all the time. It makes it very pleasant to be around you."

As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley started to uncoil, seeming to gain back some of the calm he had lost moments earlier.

"You know," Aziraphale continued. "I wasn’t sure at first what it was, at the Garden. I thought perhaps it was coming from the two humans, that I was feeling some of what they felt for each other. I sensed a kind of… awed respect, at that time, and a selfless desire for the other person’s success and wellbeing. Those seemed like probable shades of love for those two to be radiating. But then I sensed the same thing again the next time I saw you. Of course, our meetings were few and far between, those first few millennia, but it grew and grew over time, like a garden that blossoms as you water it. The closer you look the harder it is to tell there’s been any growth at all, but you step away for a moment and there it is, green everywhere."

Aziraphale's gaze had been far away, more focused on his thoughts than his surroundings, but now he looked directly into Crowley's eyes, and gave a tender smile.

"So yes, I've known for a long, long time. I never said anything because, well, at first because I didn't want to trouble you with it if I couldn't reciprocate, and then because I knew Hell wouldn't approve, and might even sentence you to death. Crowley, I couldn't possibly risk your life, not for that. But now. Well I. I suppose there’s nothing stopping me, now. I don’t think any of Hell’s minions are going to be popping up to remind you to be subservient. Not for a little while. So, I hope I'm not wrong about this, but it seems like I'm now free to say it: I love you, Crowley, and I want you in my life for as long as you'll have me."

Crowley's head swayed from side to side. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away. Looked back. Then he hissed: "Ssay it again."

Aziraphale's smile took over his whole face and reached his eyes. "I love you."

Crowley curled against Aziraphale's chest, with his head on Aziraphale's neck. "Again."

"I love you."

He drew more of himself onto the chair and wrapped part of his body around Aziraphale's torso. He squeezed gently in a serpentine hug.

"I love you."

* * *

Aziraphale and Crowley were walking hand in hand in the sunshine, on their way to St. James’ Park. On the way, they were having a pleasant disagreement about the number of black swans that lived there. Aziraphale had been insisting there was only one.

"I swear there's two of them," Crowley said, just as they arrived and were stepping onto the path. "They're different sizes. One's head looks too big for its body. They're just never both there at the same time."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to refute this when he saw, some distance away, Gabriel, standing near their bench and facing them. He tilted his head down and looked pointedly at their clasped hands, and then back up to their faces.

Aziraphale stood his ground and didn't flinch, but he did grip Crowley's hand _very_ hard. If Crowley had been human, he might have needed to go to the hospital afterward, but fortunately he wasn't, and he didn't flinch either.

The look on Gabriel's face was difficult to read. He didn't look disgusted, or frightened, or accepting. He looked... wearily resigned. After a moment his shoulders lowered, and he seemed to deflate, like a ball of bread dough that's been punched after rising.

Then, without warning, Gabriel turned and walked away. Aziraphale was relieved; he hadn't wanted to be the first to turn his back, but he hadn't wanted to have a confrontation either. Farther down the path, Gabriel disappeared among the scattered pedestrians in the distance.

Aziraphale led Crowley to the ice cream vendor. He felt like he'd just achieved something worthy of a celebration. They brought their purchases to their bench, sat, and breathed separate sighs of relief. Floating on the water, there were two black swans.

* * *

**2020**

Aziraphale was shelving books and thinking about where to have lunch with Crowley when a pretty woman with long, mousy brown hair entered the shop. She gave him a friendly smile: “You’re here! I can’t believe I’ve finally caught you when you’re open.”

Aziraphale put down the book he was holding and came over to greet her. “Hello. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I mainly wanted to pop in on my lunch break and have another look around. It seems like such an interesting selection, and I’ve been dying to come and see what else you have. There’s just nothing like digging through a pile of old books and seeing what you find. You don’t know what you want until you see it, you know?”

Aziraphale liked her immediately. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve often enjoyed spending hours looking through stacks of old tomes looking for something unexpected, something with history. It’s the reason I started this business in the first place. There’s nothing like the wonder of discovery, and the merits of ancient wisdom…”

“And not to mention the way books used to _feel_, with leather bindings and bookmark ribbons, and sometimes interesting maps in the front…”

“I believe you’ve come to the right place.” He looked her up and down and considered her face, and her business casual outfit. “Er, we haven’t met before, have we?”

“I was here once before, about a year ago. It was—“ She laughed. “—kind of strange actually. There was a man shouting about buying pornography...?”

Aziraphale remembered. He frowned. “Ah. That was... a relative of mine. Being cheeky.”

She laughed again. “There’s one in every family. Do you actually sell porn?”

“I do occasionally, in fact.” He smiled and pointed behind him. “All those top shelves at the back, to keep them away from children, you know, that’s all erotica. And there are a few art books, which aren’t actually porn but some parents can’t tell the difference and they can sometimes get huffy.” He turned to face her again and winked. 

She was blushing adorably, clasping her hands in front of her, and her smile hadn't disappeared from her face. “I can imagine.”

“There are some adult graphic novels as well—“ Aziraphale stopped and took in her nervous energy, and the way she was using one thumb to stroke the other hand. “Is something the matter? It might look intimidating, but it's really not that much to sort through. If you tell me— That is, if you give me an idea of what sort of thing you’re interested in, I can, er, give you some recommendations if you like?”

She coughed, turning even brighter red, before gaining control of herself. "I feel like if you're going to be giving me porn recommendations, I should at least know your first name."

"Oh, really? It's Ezra."

"I'm Jess." She shook his hand surprisingly confidently, with a little squeeze around his fingers, and he squeezed back before letting go.

"Do you need me to fetch a step stool? They're a little high up."

All at once she blurted out: “Would you like to get a coffee some time?”

“Coffee?” Aziraphale concentrated, and realized she was having lustful thoughts. “Just to be clear, are you asking me on a date?”

"Er. Yes?"

"Ah. Goodness, that’s very flattering. Thank you so much for asking. The trouble is, I’m already in a relationship, you see..."

"Oh. Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble—" She ducked her head and waved her hand as if to dismiss the entire conversation.

At that moment, the bell above the door chimed, and Crowley entered.

“Oh, speak of the devil! One moment.” Aziraphale walked over to greet him. Crowley was in a new outfit, with black denim shorts and a flowy top. Over that, he had on a long, sheer coverup that went down past his knees. Aziraphale took his hands. “You look lovely, my dear.”

“Do you like it?” Crowley looked down at himself.

"Mm, it suits you." Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley's cheek, and while he was close to Crowley's ear he whispered: "Pronouns?"

Crowley whispered back: "He." Then at a more audible volume, he said: "So you were talking about me?"

Aziraphale led him back over. "Yes. This is Jess."

"Anthony," Crowley said, and shook her hand.

"I was just explaining that I can’t accept the offer of a date because I’m not single."

She started sputtering: "Sorry, I didn’t know—"

"Well," Crowley said to Aziraphale. "Don’t decline on my account. You used to see other people and it was fine. You’re the one that decided to stop, after all."

"Yes, well, I didn’t actually _date_ per se, it was more—"

"One night stands," Crowley said.

"Yes."

Jess spoke up hesitantly. "Well, I’d still be interested, if that’s on the table?"

Aziraphale looked between the two of them. "It’s been a while since I’ve actually considered— I had a bit of a bad experience, you see. Someone misled me pretty significantly. And I thought at the time that perhaps I should avoid those sorts of entanglements..." He bit his lip and squeezed one hand with the other. "I do miss it though."

There was a brief silence during which Jess opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, and Crowley shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his heels clicking on the floor, while Aziraphale pondered, deep in thought.

"It has actually occurred to me that the trouble that happened before is pretty unlikely to happen again."

"It is," Crowley agreed.

"Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to indulge a little again. Just on a trial basis, you understand."

"Of course."

Aziraphale turned to Jess. "I think I will accept after all, but a night in, rather than a coffee. Friday?"

Jess grinned excitedly. "That sounds fantastic."

"Well, I think for the moment I'll leave you to your porn shopping—"

Her eyes widened and she nearly choked on her breath.

"But you can come and let me know if you have any questions."

She rushed to explain to Crowley: "I'm not actually here to buy porn! I just thought he was being flirty. I was playing along."

"'S no skin off _my_ nose, mate. Buy all the porn you like."

Crowley and Aziraphale walked across the shop to the backroom while Jess turned to look at the shelves. Through the open door, their conversation wouldn't be overheard, but Aziraphale would still be available for questions.

"So. Since the topic has come up..." Aziraphale said.

Crowley gave an encouraging raise of his eyebrows.

"I had been thinking about discussing it, actually, for some time now. I think I may have been a little hasty when I swore off sex altogether."

Crowley smiled indulgently. _"I_ could have told you that."

"You did, in fact, as I recall. I just... was so overwhelmed. There was the whole situation with Rose, and with you—"

"Me?"

Aziraphale blushed. "Well, you know..."

"Know what?" 

"That was the night I realized I was in love with you."

Crowley's mouth dropped open. Then it snapped shut again. "So, you realized you were in love with me, and you decided never to have sex again?"

"Well it... wasn't _strictly_ that straightforward..." He cleared his throat. "The point is, I was overwhelmed at the time, and now I'm not, and I think I would like to ease back into things again."

Crowley shook his head. His mouth turned up in a mischievous little squiggle. "Any chance you'll tell me all about it afterward?"

Aziraphale shoved his shoulder. "You scoundrel." He grinned. "Of course I will."

"I sort of miss when we used to meet up after time apart and you'd tell me what you'd been up to in the meantime. All your sexual escapades and your little crushes."

Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders. His eyes were drawn to Crowley’s bare legs, and the way they stood out against the long black coverup he was wearing. "I'm curious... If I'm going to be having sex again, I was wondering if that's something _you_ might be interested in as well. With me."

Crowley leaned in and kissed him, just gently.

"Because I know it's always been more of a craving for me than for you, and I don't want you to feel obligated..."

"Angel. I would love to."

Aziraphale beamed at him. "Really?"

"Maybe I don't crave it exactly, but it feels good. And making you happy makes me happy."

"Oh, wonderful." His smile became even brighter. "I've got a few ideas about things I'd like to try."

"I love being with you when you try new things. You'll have to tell me all about them the moment we're alone."

"Oh." His eyes sparkled. "Do you think one o'clock is too early to close the shop?"

"On a beautiful day like today? Probably won't get any more customers anyway."

"Yes, that's just what I was thinking."

At that moment, Jess popped her head in to inquire about the cost of a battered old atlas. After she made her purchase, she and Aziraphale exchanged telephone numbers. Crowley warned her not to text because the phone wasn't a mobile, she left smiling, and that was that.

* * *

Over the following months, Crowley and Aziraphale went out together, with hand-holding and even kisses at the park, at museums, at quaint little diners and upscale restaurants. Aziraphale enjoyed sexual pleasure quite a number of times, often with humans and occasionally with Crowley. And he felt a delightful lack of shame about the whole thing, too. Occasionally, just before he touched Crowley's face with his hand, or spoke some loving words out loud, he would be struck by fear, just for a moment. Then he'd remember that Heaven and Hell weren't coming after them. There was nothing to be afraid of. They were free.

One particular lazy evening in summer, when the two of them were in bed together, Aziraphale was on his back, and Crowley was thrusting slowly in and out of him, rubbing Aziraphale's penis with one hand, and his nipple with the other. Aziraphale was breathing hard, eyes closed.

"You want me to touch you in more places at once?"

Aziraphale huffed out a small laugh. "Don't be silly."

"It's not silly. It's what you want."

Aziraphale opened his eyes. He laughed again when he realized. "Of course. You can see my thoughts." 

"I can see your desires. There's a... subtle distinction."

"What—" Aziraphale cleared his throat. "What is the distinction?"

"I know you want to be touched everywhere at once, but I don't have visuals. I don't know how you want to go about it." Crowley stilled. He stayed inside, not thrusting, although his penis was twitching. "Do you want to involve more people? Do you want me to have more limbs? Do you want me to strap little vibrators to you everywhere? Whatever it is, I'm happy to do it."

Aziraphale panted a moment. Then he said: "Can you... Can we take a little break?"

"Yeah, course." Crowley rolled off of Aziraphale, and they both lay facing each other, holding each other. Aziraphale’s erection was pressed firmly against Crowley, and he could feel Crowley’s against him.

Aziraphale took a breath. He said: "I saw an animated film a few decades ago that gave me an idea. It was about a young lady who was very demure and unsure of herself, and very unfulfilled, since she had a lot of apprehension about giving in to what she wanted. One day, when she got lost, she was cornered by a being from the sea who forced her to confront her innermost desires. The being had many limbs and was able to touch her everywhere at once. Or, not limbs. Tentacles. Like an octopus."

Crowley summoned his phone to his hand and started Googling for videos of octopi. "With the little suckers on one side?"

"Yes, exactly. The whole thing was extremely overwhelming and almost unbearably pleasurable for the lady. And ever since then I've thought, well... I'd never be able to do any of that with a human of course, but I thought... What are you doing?" He looked over at Crowley's phone.

Crowley laid against Aziraphale's side and held the phone above them so they could watch the video together. While it was still playing, Crowley moved his hand and wrist in a wave, in imitation of the tentacles on the screen. "So do you think I should grow them out of this body, or be entirely octopus?"

"Oh, I thought it would be nice if I could look up and see your face if I wished."

Crowley nodded. "Maybe I'll replace my lower half, be like a mermaid. That would be the most aesthetically pleasing, don't you think?"

Aziraphale laughed, utterly charmed, and leaned in to kiss him firmly on the mouth.

"What?"

"You're wonderful."

Crowley blushed. While he was still looking at the video, he transformed his legs into eight black tentacles. They were thick and sturdy close to his torso, and when he raised himself up, he was able to support all his weight on them, but they got narrower as they extended out along their considerable length. He put his phone down on the bedside table. "Are you ready?"

"Not quite." Aziraphale transformed as well so that he had a vulva instead of a penis and testes. He took a steadying breath. "Alright."

Crowley softly echoed: "Alright." He wrapped one tentacle around Aziraphale's left thigh and pulled it up, and slipped the tip into Aziraphale's vagina. It pressed and squirmed, entirely differently from how a penis moves. It coiled around itself, bunching and bulging, pressing against Aziraphale's inner walls in one place, retreating in another, in an endless cycle. He wrapped another tentacle around Aziraphale's right thigh to hold it up, and pressed the tip of that one to Aziraphale's anus. He dipped in gently, then more firmly, and then Aziraphale felt the strange, intimate sensation of both of the tentacles touching each other through the thin wall between them. 

Aziraphale moved his hips and arched his back, still panting loudly. His breath hitched whenever Crowley brushed his most sensitive spots, and still his mind called out for more.

Crowley wrapped two tentacles around Aziraphale's torso, and squeezed tightly around his waist and chest, rubbing against his nipples with each movement. He groped with one curled end around Aziraphale's shoulder and touched along his collarbone. Aziraphale longed to have his arms held down, and Crowley gave him that with two more tentacles. That was when Aziraphale started moaning loudly and bucking harder. As if in response, Crowley reached down with one hand and rubbed Aziraphale's clitoris with his thumb. With the other hand he reached up and gripped Aziraphale's hair tightly, right against his scalp. Aziraphale's urgent, desperate sounds were breaking from him uncontrolled, and his chest rose and fell with every panting breath. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and he flexed his arms but couldn't move them.

Aziraphale ached for more pressure inside, and more friction against his clitoris, and the moment he had the thought, Crowley rubbed faster, and thickened the ends of the tentacles he was using to penetrate him. Aziraphale was shouting and couldn't speak, but his desire flared out white-hot. He was so tantalizingly close. Crowley squeezed him tighter, fucked him harder, and rubbed him faster, and at the moment the desire quieted, finally fulfilled, Aziraphale orgasmed with a loud shout and a jerk of his body, then another. His body squeezed and pulsed around the tentacles. It went on for a long, long moment, and he shouted and laughed at the same time. 

Crowley released his hair, but kept rubbing his clitoris, lighter and more gently, as Aziraphale moaned and giggled. Crowley eased up on his torso and arms. Aziraphale was delirious and a little giddy as he came down and went through more aftershocks.

When he was finally able to speak, he said: “Crowley. Oh, my love. Thank you." He laughed. "Thank you for this ecstasy. You're so good to me."

Crowley bent down to kiss Aziraphale's lips, smiling, before straightening up again. "Only as good as you are to me, angel." He pulled out slowly from Aziraphale's vagina and anus, allowing him time to adjust. As Aziraphale rested, Crowley gathered all the tentacles together and transformed them back into legs, and remained kneeling between Aziraphale's thighs.

"Oh... I feel I could just..." Aziraphale sighed. "Let go of this form and... drift."

Crowley smiled tenderly. "If that's what you want to do. I wouldn't mind."

"Only for a little while."

"Sure."

Aziraphale shimmered and changed, and started to glow. He gradually lost his solidity, and shone brightly like a ball of flame, glowing white and yellow. He rose up and floated serenely above the bed. He didn’t exactly have eyes, but he could see in all directions, and he didn’t exactly have wings, but he could reach out with tendrils of light to flutter as he moved. Now that he was unencumbered by his human body, he was able to radiate his essence limitlessly.

Crowley, still kneeling naked on the bed, gasped and widened his eyes, gazing up at the light. He started to cry.

"Aziraphale..."

Aziraphale spoke, not with his voice, but with his thoughts. "Crowley, my love. What is it?"

"Your love." Crowley’s hands hung limply at his sides. "I can feel your love." His face was bathed in light, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he laughed, a drunken, unruly, sobbing wheeze of a laugh. He knelt there, shaking, and grinning up at Aziraphale’s glowing form, until he finally sniffed and wiped his cheeks with his hands. “I knew you loved me. I never doubted it. But to _feel_ it…” 

Aziraphale radiated his love as powerfully as he could. "I wish I had known this was something I could do for you, and that it had been safe for us sooner. But now..."

"Please say we're doing this again."

"Yes. Oh, yes. Whenever you like, my love."

They stayed like that, drifting, basking in each other's love, for what could have been hours, or maybe days. Finally Aziraphale came down to join Crowley on the bed. He solidified, and came back to his familiar shape, with arms and legs to wrap around Crowley as he drifted off to sleep, and a face to smile with happiness at the sight.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> [Here is a link to the Tumblr post](https://likearumchocolatesouffle.tumblr.com/post/189675239205/just-nerves-likeasouffle-good-omens-tv) I made for this fic. I really appreciate comments and reblogs! Thank you so much! :D


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